A Day-Mare Poet

The sweetest dream
                           seems a mere nightmare,
The yesterday aches
                           by all pain of the future,
The present things
                         remain as they were,
All the disasters
                     of the news are neutral.

Drink liqueur,
                  opiates or other drugs,
None of them
                  makes you feel alive,
But they may help
                        to forget all the goods,
Before the peace,
                       in form of death, arrives.

Bite on the lips
                    that get kiss only by ruth,
Stay in silence
                   on all the fake conversation,
Test whether
                  you’re asleep or it’s the truth,
Then, enjoy the curse
                     of being a poet.

Benyamin Bensalah

22.08.2018

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